Featured: Slides (Interpreted by Nancy)
Poetry
It is the nature of a droplet to be the smallest observable element./ I don’t know what to say about other people.
Two Poems by Melissa Watt
What did we know of death? Nothing/ but narcissus bloomed like hiccups/ in the front yard and/ we were the kingdoms and the questions.
From “From A Winter Notebook,” new poems by Matvei Yankelevich
Don't worry, the notebooks are all with the proper/ authorities. Such little things make life, and buttonholes / let it seep out. It can happen in no time and now it’s over.
Dead Bugs in the Light Fixture, a poem by James Croal Jackson
so I returned to the salted road/ cruising past dark snow/ and trees no cars/ no other lights/ for miles just ice
Three Poems by Aaron Belz
So this girl messages me/ do you want to hang out sometime./ So I look and see she actually has a boyfriend./ The boyfriend as it turns out is a reindeer./ And not only that, a metal display reindeer.
Trafika Europe Corner by Andrew Singer featuring Oleh Kotsarev
And only once a day, the book silently /Reminds me how I used to read /the poems to you in German / And I didn’t understand a word, /And you didn’t understand a word either.
The Break-Up by Brianna Barnes
“It was nothing like you could imagine,” my co-worker said. “I ran out to the street and the earth moved in waves.”
Slides (Interpreted by Nancy) by Nancy Kangas
Multimedia, Poetry, Slides (Interpreted by Nancy)
I said “hang/ out” not/ “move in”
People In The World Trying To Be by Shane Kowalski
People I know and people I don’t alike remark on my genius at being so totally beneath everyone’s level, it warms my heart.
Two Poems by Erik Kennedy
Meanwhile we array our satisfied brains/ flaccid and cool and semi-supine like a hammock/ slung between two candy canes.
Slides (Interpreted by Nancy) by Nancy Kangas
Multimedia, Poetry, Slides (Interpreted by Nancy)
We just like to wash what we love./ And because our tongues are not rough/ we invented this small tub.
Trafika Europe Corner by Andrew Singer featuring Aziz Mustafa
Between my ribs I would tattoo the perforations by needles for hemi-thorax drainage, from broken ribs...
Unpublishable by Sommer Browning
Multimedia, Poetry, Unpublishable by Sommer Browning
I love you/*falls into abyss*
AN AMAZING, LIFE-AFFIRMING WORK OF ART IS COMING TO YOU SOON, DEAR READERS
“Thank God nothing meaningful can ever be accurately expressed.”
Nataniel Was Trenchant Underneath the Trenchcoat by Jared Joseph
While i cry i think/ Wingeth Paltry.
Slides (Interpreted by Nancy) by Nancy Kangas (Thanksgiving Edition)
Every no is a yes
in a no-colored dress
Two Poems by Claire/Spike Dougherty
Does Billy know and does Billy know what it looks like? Do you know Billy? Do you know, Billy? If it’s only me and Billy in a room, does she care if she sees? Did you expect Billy to be a he? Is he a man? Can he dilate?
Two Poems by Hannah Jove
I just need someone to be able to love me for at least a decade, one humid and symmetrical decade, until they look at me one day over breakfast and see the empty quarry that I have never once stopped cutting slate from.
Diagram Poems by Jessy Randall
Source for illustrations:Source for illustrations:
William Austin Cannon. The Root Habits of Desert Plants. Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institute, 1911.
William Austin Cannon. The Root Habits of Desert Plants. Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institute, 1911.
Trafika Europe Corner by Andrew Singer featuring Philip Kobylarz
In one of the rooms (a total of nine) there is a door behind the door. This door has not been opened for thirty years. The room itself is a monumental coffer, a reliquary, what the family refers to as a fouillis (a mess).
Slides (Interpreted by Nancy) by Nancy Kangas
Poetry, Slides (Interpreted by Nancy)
Sun at fairs is hot and malicious./ It loves to reveal your choices as ridiculous.
Two Poems by Josh Lefkowitz
Well alright for a while I won’t be/ The whole unruly masterpiece mess/ I’ll just be a simple pencil sketch
Sleeping Alone Right Now Forever And Not At All by Leah Clancy
I mean when you gather up/ all the insides of yourself/ and then it all drops/ like kids jumping/ in a moving elevator
Trafika Europe Corner by Andrew Singer Featuring Anton Yakovlev
In my dreams, the dogs always devour me
We Went Then to Market by Jared Joseph
She said something beautiful. I don’t say anything beautiful.
Slides (Interpreted by Nancy) by Nancy Kangas
Multimedia, Poetry, Slides (Interpreted by Nancy)
“We are one jellyfish” my ass.
Trafika Europe Corner by Andrew Singer Featuring Adrian Opriou
I am now trying to write about all this but words are never enough to describe the loss of words. The words of my own language had become objects already then, the words of the other language are objects too, maybe even more gnarled and barbed. Every day they must be brought from a storage room under your house, where they lie dusty and crammed like appliances and bicycle wheels; then you must carry them up on your back and carefully arrange them, so that simultaneously with the text you also build the walls of the house, so that you have a bed to sleep in, a cup in which to pour the coffee.
Haiku About Technology by Andrew Miller
I love you, you wrote / Report suspicious message? / No Google, trust it
Trafika Europe Corner by Andrew Singer featuring Liāna Langa
In her poetry and conversation, Langa acknowledges a debt to a wide swath of European poets – to Auden and Cavafy, Rimbaud and Joyce, Rilke and Tomas Tranströmer. Yet she is a quintessentially Latvian poet, building on the massive folk tradition unique to this Baltic country, stretching right back to its Sanskrit roots.
Meanwhile, a friend’s wife has an affair in Connecticut by Bill Neumire with an image by Hiroyuki Ishii
What is the part that ages?/ The part that moves on?
Slides (Interpreted by Nancy) by Nancy Kangas
Let us please and be pleased/ under this sharp sun/ alone together
Two Poems by Anne Gorrick and a Collage by Jen May
How does the sleeping person react to being thrown into small places?
Two Poems and a Photo by Evan Watson
Evan Watson works as a wilderness ranger on the Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest in southern Oregon.
Jon-Michael Frank’s “Diana Ross & The Supremes”
I remember hearing those songs for the first time again and finding them so complicated and painful. They use longing almost as a vital sign, which makes me think of Joseph Joubert saying, “the punishment of those who have loved women too much is to love them forever.”
Two Poems by Andrew Singer
Bookshop, temple to the printed age/
will soon close -- liberating language.
Poetry Comics by Jessy Randall
Which one is better? A bad idea wrapped around a kernel of a good idea? Or a good idea wrapped round a kernel of a bad idea?
Russian Optimism
From mom’s bedroom,
/
A crooked legged cripple/
Emerged. It was dad.../
I walk the same way!
Our gene pool is bad.
Chaos: A Codex (Three Poems) by Katrine Jensen
They are ancient
sundials in motion:
lumbering for their lives,
monitoring gloom, faithfully
following the planet’s rotation
to exist
only in sun.
Apocalypse Is a Scam: a poem/performance by Andrew Singer and Red Walrus
Andrew Singer is a poet and sometimes literary translator.
The Red Walrus (a.k.a. Fred Lowinger) is a Brooklyn-based DJ, sound artist and music producer. "I grew up hard on the streets," he says, "playing videogames and eating Domino's..
Slides (Interpreted by Nancy) by Nancy Kangas
Poetry, Slides (Interpreted by Nancy)
I love you and let us keep the red and white striped towel/
pretty much forever.
“From Emily Dickinson’s Notebooks” by Sommer Browning
Sommer Browning's latest book is BACKUP SINGERS, a collection of poetry from Birds, LLC.
Three Poems by Todd Colby
You’re exhausted. You tell me you’re/
exhausted, so you should sleep;/
and not worry that I'll write on/
your face with a Sharpie,
“Tension Sketches,” Poems by Mathew Johnstone
Kept, trails, of gun / undistracted / Lined alteration’s figment / we cut the tree / to / move it, image / damp When thing is many / arrays / have not understood / Translator, diminish over them / left to meant to us / scratched, illness, the absence of / turning into thing / is the mountain eats men...
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The Indiscrete Tarot by Candice Wuehle
Another savory feeling in my mouth. Starless solstice morning. My dad Drops me At high school And I’m alone Again. It’s a snow day. I don’t care. I go to the dark room. I love the empty Gymnasium, journalism room. It’s ok. The janitor is also here and he has a set of keys and will give me access If...
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